I have long known a strange man,
His identity, a complete mystery,
He seemed content to wander without a plan,
Saying: 'I will know when I meet it on my journey'.
Not a sigh escaped his lips,
As he pursued his aimless task,
Uncaring for what draped his hips,
Not a worry lined his tranquil mask.
In pity I once offered companionship,
Or maybe it was vague curiosity,
But he gently declined my friendship,
Responding: 'My path must be walked solitarily'.
He pursued ever onward so tirelessly,
Answering the unseen beacon,
This statuesque figure of forsaken majesty,
Traversed roads never to be beaten.
I do not know what it was about him,
Maybe his peaceful demeanor,
Yet some foreign fury seized my whim,
And I demanded he abandon his endeavor.
Then out of the stony depths of his gaze awoke,
A noble wisdom that shook me,
An aura of power cloaked his words as he spoke,
'Existence is the untold story'.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.